Iduna's Apples (Valhalla Book 2)

by Jennifer Willis

  “What about you?” Freyr held an apple up to Thrym, but the King of the Frost Giants waved him off with a polite smile.

  Still crouched down next to Maggie, Freya glanced up at Iduna in the corner. “You let her eat the apples?”

  “I didn’t think it was any of my business.” Iduna looked up at the ceiling. “As if my opinion counts for anything.”

  Frowning at Iduna, Freyr elbowed Thor. “What skunk climbed up her tree?”

  “Well, the Frost Giants, for starters,” Thor mumbled as he chewed and swallowed another bite of apple, then glanced up to find Thiassen staring down at him. “No offense.”

  Freya rested a hand on Maggie’s shoulder. “How many apples did you eat, exactly?”

  Maggie watched Saga grind the fruit and supervised Loki as he added water to the mix. “I don’t know.” She glanced at Freya and shrugged. “It’s really the only food that was offered to me. That and some of the worst bread I’d ever tasted.”

  She looked up at Geirrod. “You know, I could really use a burger or a salad or something.”

  Geirrod frowned. “Burger?”

  “Ground meat between slices of bread,” Valthrudnir offered. “Often served with fried potatoes, and prepared very quickly.”

  Falling quiet, Geirrod pondered this.

  Valthrudnir shook his head in sympathy. “It is what those human creatures appear to crave and enjoy.”

  Maggie groaned. “Those human creatures? I’m one of those human creatures you keep complaining about. Am I so horrible? Am I so grotesque and disgusting?”

  Geirrod’s eyes widened. “Certainly not, Maggie! Surely, you jest. You could not possibly be of those lower life forms that infest the planet.”

  Turning her back on the giant, Maggie helped Saga pour a new batch of the apple liquid into the cup, and then dribbled it carefully into Heimdall’s mouth.

  “It’s true, Geirrod. I’m just a dirty little mortal.” She poured the last of the liquid past Heimdall’s lips and smiled as he swallowed. His eyes fluttered open.

  Maggie smiled down at Heimdall and then looked at Geirrod over her shoulder. “And you’ve been waiting on me hand and foot since I arrived.”

  Geirrod turned toward Thor and Freyr. “You would consort with these . . . mortals?” He spluttered. “You would pollute your own line by taking them as consorts?”

  Thor swallowed the last of another apple and climbed to his feet. “Just Heimdall there.” He gestured toward the floor, where his brother was already sitting up and regaining his bearings.

  Freyr cleared his throat loudly. “Just Heimdall, is it? What about Bon—”

  Thor kicked Freyr in the knee.

  Freya put an arm around Maggie’s shoulder. “Humans aren’t so bad, once you get to know them.”

  Thor took a step toward Heimdall. “Feeling better, brother?”

  Heimdall nodded slowly, trying to figure out precisely where he was. “Frost Giants, Æsir, and Vanir, crowded together in a small room . . . This can’t be good.“

  “The basement, it seems,” Thor answered. “Your woman there, she’s the one who saved you.”

  Turning on his heel to avoid what he assumed would be an uncomfortable public display of affection between Heimdall and Maggie, Thor stepped past Geirrod to stand before Thrym.

  “If it had not been for the discovery of the life-sustaining apples, we would have been little more than mortals ourselves.” He gestured toward Maggie behind him. “Giants and gods may share a close, common ancestry, but these humans also share our souls.”

  Thor turned his back on the giants and was embarrassed to find Maggie beaming up at him, her eyes full of tears. She leapt up from the floor and wrapped her slender arms nearly two-thirds the way around his solid girth.

  “I never knew you felt that way.” She practically cooed into the heavy fabric of his tattered gown.

  Thor shrugged out of her embrace and looked down at her. In the dim light of the cellar, it was difficult not to notice that she had started glowing. “Maggie?”

  He leaned forward to get a better look at her. “Maggie, are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m more concerned about Heimdall.” She leaned down to touch Heimdall’s face, then froze when she caught sight of her own, slightly luminescent fingers. She straightened up and lifted her hand in front of her face, studying the faint glow of her skin.

  Freya stepped up beside her. “I’ll ask again: How many apples did you have?”

  Maggie shook her head slowly. “I don’t know. I, I—”

  “They are coming!” Thrym hissed as he stood by the door. “Footsteps!”

  Thor turned sharply toward him. “How many?”

  Thrym wore a dark expression. “Many.”

  Thor glanced down at Heimdall, now voraciously consuming apple after apple to regain his own strength. Looking up, Heimdall waved an obliging hand in his brother’s direction.

  “Right.” Newly in charge, Thor took a deep breath, puffed up his chest, and widened his stance. “So. Maggie, it’s possible that by consuming these apples during your stay, you may have begun transitioning into one of us. Maybe not, it’s hard to say,” he blurted out in a single breath, then looked sternly in Iduna’s direction. “We’ll sort it out later.”

  Iduna rolled her eyes at him and turned away.

  Thor faced Thrym. “Tell me there’s another way out of here.”

  Thrym nodded and pointed to a tall cupboard against the opposite wall. “It conceals another passage. Leading to the surface.”

  Thor looked at the cupboard and sighed. “Why then have we been cooped up in here if there’s an escape route?”

  Valthrudnir stepped angrily between Thor and Thrym. “You cannot ask our king to abandon his own stronghold! That would mean admitting defeat before the fight has even begun.”

  Thor’s temper was coming back in force—the apples were working. Still, he bit back the string of curses about Frost Giants and questionable uses of farming equipment that tempted his tongue. Valthrudnir had eight inches and nearly 100 pounds on Thor and likely wouldn’t think twice before using the Norse god of thunder as a garden hoe.

  Instead, Thor looked up into Valthrudnir’s face and shook his head. “Some day, you’ll have to explain to me just what it is about you guys and this mountain.”

  Squaring his shoulders, Thor stepped aside to address Thrym. “We know little to nothing about our enemy.”

  Thor gestured toward the heavy door blocking access to the main passageway. The echoing sounds of clawing footsteps were growing louder. Thor saw Valthrudnir stiffen as a new chorus of cackling arose.

  “And we’re not in any kind of shape to stand and fight.” He hooked his thumb at Heimdall still on the floor. “My kin have been deprived of Iduna’s harvest too long—thanks to your brilliant ransom maneuver. We’re not as strong as you are. We can’t go hand-to-hand with Køjer Devils today.”

  Resting his fists on his hips, Thor glanced about the dim cellar at the giants. “Unless you four feel comfortable taking on these demons yourselves, I suggest we live to fight another day.”

  The first of the Køjer Devils reached the cellar door with a deafening thud that nearly knocked Thor off his feet. This was followed by the pounding of scaly fists and the whine of razor-sharp nails digging into rock and wood. The door rattled in its frame.

  Eyes wide, Valthrudnir, Geirrod, and Thiassen looked nervously to their king. Thrym nodded at Thor. “We will retreat.”

  Thor inclined his head respectfully. “You’ve made the right decision.”

  The assault escalated on the other side of the cellar door, and the framing beams shook with each blow. Geirrod hurried to the shelves on the wall and pulled down a pair of dusty rucksacks. He tossed one of the bags to Thiassen, and they made haste stuffing apples into the bags. Valthrudnir pointed to the shelves where additional burlap bags already bulged with apples. “Grab as many sacks as you can!”

  Thor turned and looked down at Heimd
all on the floor. “Can you walk?”

  Heimdall rose clumsily to his feet and tested his balance. “I might even be able to run.”

  “You’ll probably have to,” Thor replied.

  Loki grabbed a sack of apples from Valthrudnir. Freyr loaded himself up with four sacks and handed three more to Saga.

  Thrym yanked a key forcefully off of Thiassen’s belt, then crossed to the cupboard and unlocked it. The door swung open easily, revealing a narrow, dark passageway carved into the rock.

  Thor half-smiled. “I don’t suppose you boys have any flashlights down here?”

  Thrym frowned. “Flash? Light?”

  Thor sighed. “So, torches?”

  Thrym, Loki, and Freya grabbed lanterns off the wall. Thor pointed a meaty finger at his older brother. “Heimdall. You’re going first.”

  Heimdall tried to press his shoulders back in a show of strength, but he stumbled backward into the wall instead. He caught himself and glowered up at Thor. “I’ll not be the first to retreat. You get Maggie out—”

  “She’s going with you,” Thor cut him off. “We all are. But you’re up first.” Thor pointed sharply at the door. “You and Maggie and Loki.”

  Maggie wrapped an arm around Heimdall’s waist and nudged him toward the exit. He gave in and followed Loki into the dark tunnel, stooping slightly as he exited through the hidden doorway.

  “Freyr, Freya, Saga,” Thor commanded, just as the beams framing the door to the passageway began to split under the Køjer Devils’ assault.

  Saga glanced at the splintering wood on the other side of the room. “Don’t need to tell me twice.” She hefted her trio of fruit-filled sacks and followed Freya and her lantern into the passageway. Freyr headed out behind her.

  Iduna stepped up in front of Thor and stared at him in stony silence.

  “Please, Iduna.”

  She narrowed her eyes and then stepped past him and into the tunnel.

  Thor watched the last of his kin disappear as the light from their lanterns was absorbed by the dark passageway, then gestured Thrym toward the small door. “Your turn.”

  Thrym nodded curtly and headed into the passageway, pausing to toss the heavy key to Thiassen. Geirrod and Valthrudnir followed quickly. Thiassen took a step toward Thor. “You.”

  Thor laughed. “Not a chance.”

  The inside of the cellar door started to crack inward.

  “Our refuge will shortly be breached. Have you regained enough of your strength to fend off a band of Køjer Devils?”

  Thor’s jaw tightened. Thiassen wasn’t wrong. Thor was still feeling light-headed and foggy-minded, but admitting as much to a Frost Giant was just asking for trouble. He also didn’t like the idea of having a giant at his back.

  The corners of Thiassen’s mouth twitched into a smile. “It is in the interests of both our peoples to get out of here alive.”

  The heavy door groaned and splinters of wood flew into the cellar. Thiassen grabbed Thor by the shoulders, spun him toward the open passageway and shoved him through the doorway, pressing his wide foot against Thor’s backside to propel him forward. “No dawdling!”

  Thiassen followed. Hunched over in the close space, Thiassen turned and pulled the cupboard door shut, locking it behind him. He’d only taken a few steps along the upward-sloping tunnel when he heard the main door to the cellar shatter into pieces. The sound of the devils’ clawed feet scampering across the cellar’s stone floor was enough to double Thiassen’s speed in the tunnel.

  Coming up behind Thor, Thiassen again pushed him forcefully up the sloped passageway. “Move!” he shouted. “They are in the cellar.”

  Trying to ignore the giant’s assault on his pride and his backside, Thor followed the dim lights from the lanterns ahead. The tunnel wove right and left along a steep trajectory toward the surface. Each footstep was harder than the last. By the time Thor saw sunlight spilling into the tunnel from above, his breath was coming in sharp, involuntary huffs, and the muscles in his legs were hot lead. He lost his footing on the loose gravel littering the tunnel floor. Thiassen caught him and kept pushing him forward.

  “Are they in the tunnel?” Thor gasped.

  “No talking! Keep moving!” Thiassen shouted into his ear.

  Thor tumbled out of the tunnel into a wild tangle of shrubs. Thiassen came flying out behind him and nearly landed on top of him.

  “Hey! Get off, will you!” Thor shouted through a face full of leaves and thorny branches.

  Thiassen leapt up before Thor finished shouting. “Help me!” he called out to his fellow giants. While Thor struggled to free himself from the thicket—with prickers tearing at his beard and clothing—the four giants worked together to roll a large stone over the rounded entrance to the tunnel. They grunted with the effort, moving the stone carefully. When they dropped the covering into place, they heaved their shoulders into the stone to settle it against the side of the mountain.

  Freya helped Thor climb out of the bushes. Wiping the bloody scratches on his face with the back of his hand, Thor stared at the stone covering the tunnel. “Will that hold?”

  Thrym looked at him sternly. “I do not suggest we remain here to find out.”

  Thor’s lungs burned from his upward sprint from the cellar. He glanced sideways to find Freyr similarly out of breath. The nature god flashed him an unenthusiastic thumbs-up.

  Heimdall winced as he got his breathing under control. “Other than the entrance farther up the mountain, is this the only way in or out?”

  Geirrod stormed toward him. “You have already seen too much of our stronghold! Why should we answer your questions about our weaknesses?”

  Heimdall tried to smile and reassure the giant. “I think we’re going to have to trust each other on this.”

  Thrym stepped forward. “Yes. Only these two entrances.” He nodded toward the large stone covering their escape route. “I never expected to abandon my own castle, and certainly not by such a path.”

  Freya stepped back into the grass-covered clearing to view the tunnel in its larger context. Apart from the stone, the entrance was hidden by thick shrubs and overgrown vines clinging to the mountain rock. “You built your castle into the very mountain,” she murmured.

  Thrym took a step toward her. “It was to be my gift to you.”

  She pressed her lips together in a grim smile. “I remember.” She moved away from him and let her eyes drift up the side of the mountain. “The amount of work, the years of labor.”

  Thrym watched her from a distance. “I know how you loved this mountain.”

  Freya ignored him. She turned instead to Maggie, standing apart from the group and carefully examining her hands.

  “I can’t see it in the sunlight.” Maggie squinted at the low-hanging sun, then shook her head. “I don’t know even know what time it is. Daylight all the time, even in the middle of the night.”

  Freya walked across the grass and took Maggie’s hands into her own.

  “Look, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to eat the apples,” Maggie sighed. “I’m sorry, all right? I didn’t mean to take away from someone else’s share.” Maggie was surprised to find herself sniffing back tears. “They weren’t even all that good, anyway.”

  “Later. We’ll talk.” Freya caught Maggie’s eye and held her gaze. “In the meantime, no more apples, okay?”

  “Deal.”

  Freya turned to face her kinsmen and the Frost Giants. “So are we done catching our breath?”

  Heimdall stood in the center of the clearing. “It’s time to move on.” He saw Thrym about to protest, and raised his hand to silence him. “We have lost this battle, but not the war.”

  “Not yet,” Freyr muttered.

  Heimdall shot him a hard look, then turned to Thrym. “We’re not done. We’ll figure this out.”

  Thrym sighed hard. “Where shall we go, then?”

  Heimdall turned and looked at Thor. “Well, we have that rental house . . .”

&nbs
p; Thor stood there thinking about other possible alternatives, when Saga’s eyes grew wide.

  “Sally!” she exclaimed.

  “Jormungand’s forked tongue!” Freya’s hand flew to her throat in distress. “She’s there all alone.”

  Freyr bent forward, resting his hands on his knees. “With Køjer Devils on the loose.“

  Heimdall took a deep breath, still trying to get all of his muscles working together properly. He turned the Thrym. “We’re getting off this mountain. Now.”

  15

  The good news was the rental house was still standing. Sort of.

  Ignoring the partially collapsed roof, Freya ran up the wood ramp to the elevated porch. The pieces of plastic IKEA furniture that hadn’t been splintered or melted lay scattered across the porch and the small lawn below.

  “Devils,” Freya spat. She stood on the porch and trembled with rage. Her hands balled into fists.

  “Not a bad guess, but right now I’m not so certain of anything.” Thor stood on the ramp and surveyed the damage to the exterior of the house. Besides the patio being a shambles, only a single window remained in its frame. A few houseplants were strewn about, their earthenware pots shattered and the carnage of potting soil and exposed roots smeared across exterior walls and down the porch posts. Thor spotted a lone ficus tree several yards away, bobbing in the fjord in its plastic pot.

  “I guess the odds are pretty long that it was a freak tornado,” Thor offered.

  Solar tiles from the roof had been ripped to pieces and scattered like eco-confetti on the lawn and over the water. The front door was ajar, barely hanging from a single hinge.

  “Violators!” Unclenching her fingers, Freya dashed inside.

  “Freya! Wait!” Heimdall ran inside after her.

  “This is not good,” Thor whistled through his teeth. Nothing appeared to be on fire, at least, and renting a place in such a secluded spot meant there weren’t any neighboring houses—or displaced neighbors—to contend with on top of whatever might be waiting inside.

  Thor tried not to think of what might have become of the Moon Witch.